


A new wind blows

by TessiePessie



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Anastasia is Anastasia Morozova, Dmitry is the Tsarevich, F/M, Friends to Lovers, How Do I Tag, Maria and Dmitry are twins, She also doesn't like royalty, Slow Burn, but Dmitry likes her very much, i guess, not a Grand Duchess, she is just a Duchess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 09:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19248223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessiePessie/pseuds/TessiePessie
Summary: At his twenty, there a few things that Dmitry knew.He loved his family.He cared deeply for his country.He was going to be the next Tsar.He didn't want to.And then, there's a new thing. He has to take care of his people.That last thing he learned it thanks to a pretty and bossy girl.





	A new wind blows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [punto_y_coma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/punto_y_coma/gifts).



> I don't even finish my others fics and here I am.
> 
> As you can read, this is totally and AU, and that's why nothing about the revolution as what we know happened.
> 
> Hope you like it.  
> (I stole Anastasia's last name from punto_y_coma, and congratulation with ending your fic <3 )

The image in the mirror looked back at him with a bit of fear in his blue eyes. Well, at least the uniform looked great on him. Was it too late to jump out of the window?

“Mitya, Papa is looking for you” Maria was wearing her official dress and, indeed, she looked very much like a Grand Duchess should look. He didn’t fell the same.

“Right, just give me… just give me a few minutes. Tell him that I’m not ready yet”. Dmitry was playing loosely with the medals in his jacket, but he was just trying to make time. He couldn’t believe that in a few hours he’d have to talk in front of a bunch of people who would judge him if he said something off.

Maria bit her bottom lip and walked slowly till she reached him and put a hand on his shoulder. Dmitry looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled faintly.

“You know that you don’t have to do this, right?” she said, and he knew that it was a lie. He had to because that’s what the Tsarevich must do.

“But I have to. I want Papa to be proud of me”, her sister hugged him as he let out a long breath.

It was just a simple ceremony, he told himself, and Maria was going to be by his side the whole time. Surely he would find that comforting.  

They protect each other, they always do that.

“They will wait for you the whole day if you need it, but it’d be very rude of you,” said his sister mockingly as she brushed the few wrinkles in his uniform.

She was right, of course. So, with a sigh, he followed her out of the bedroom.

 

Downstairs, his father was looking at his pocket watch, moving his fingers impatiently. At least he didn’t look mad, and even relief when he heard their steps.

For a Tsar, Nicholas was a caring, loving parent, and probably he was just as nervous as his son. He needed this ceremony to be just perfect. The eyes of the empire were on him and the future ruler and he couldn’t afford a mistake.

“There you are. You look stunning. Both of you”.

Nicholas gave a kiss on the forehead of his little girl before going and hugging Dmitry effusively.

Not a few minutes after, the royal family was in a car, ready for the ceremony.

It wasn’t a big thing, but it was the first time that Dmitry would talk in front of the people of Russia. His parents were preparing the path that he would have to take in a future which was too close for his own liking. But it was fine, he knew that he didn’t have a choice here.

He was the oldest son of the Tsar. He was twenty. He was on age to take his duties. And it’s not like he didn’t want to, he was just afraid of doing it badly. Like awfully bad.

Like, to be remembered as the worst Tsar of Russian history.

 

Out of the car, the people were pushing to get the look of the Romanov family. The beautiful sisters and the handsome boys were always so charming and gave a few smiles to the photographers, pictures that they’d print the next morning in the newspaper.

Olga and Tatiana were more reserved and would walk with their head high, looking like the perfect image of royalty.

Then Dmitry and Maria, the twins, would walk arm in arm. She would be more outgoing, waving her hand at the excited crowd, as her brother was the nervous one and just walked alongside her.

Lastly, the Tsar, the Tsarina and their little son, Alexei. He was a thin teen who looked too fragile to be fifteen years old boy. Still, he was just as happy as Maria and his hair was combed as Dmitry’s.

It was a big family and they were proud of it.

At the end of the crowd, people screaming angry words made their way to the royal family.

And then, the shootings.

Maria screamed at Dmitry’s side as he wrapped his arms around his sister to protect her. Everything was fast forward. Scared people running away, his mother crying, his father asking what was going on, the frightened faces of Tatiana and Olga, Alexei trembling.

The guards made his family walk faster and far away, a woman screamed for help.

The next thing he got clear in his mind was that they were in a car again and leaving the place. _What is going on?._

That was something that he thought, but also, something that Maria said out loud.

“The shouting… I mean, what happened there?”, his sister was very concerned and scared, just like him but sadly, he didn’t have an answer.

“Do you think that people died there?” and her voice trembled when she spoke

“I don’t know Masha, I don’t know”, he said holding her hand.

 

At the palace, the people were walking from one room to another. The order was that the girls had to go to their rooms and Nicholas had to attend a meeting to talk about the disaster that just happened.

Dmitry stayed at Alexei room but his feet couldn’t stay still. He was overwhelmed by everything, while his little brother watched him from the bed.

“Do you think that someone tried to hurt us?” he asked.

“I don’t know Alyosha, the shootings were from afar”, _maybe that was a threat._

“They hate us”.

And that was all,  a simple sentence and Dmitry usually forgot how grown up his little brother was.

He didn’t have to answer, they both knew that Alexei was right. The people on the street were angrier and hungrier every day and his family was oblivious.

Or they chose to keep their eyes shut. Drinking his fancy tea and sleeping in a warm bed. Dmitry was angry too. He was going to be the next Tsar, he was supposed to do something about it.

 

Walking with his back straight, he opened the heavy door of his father office without a knock. Nicholas looked at him from the desk frowning. He was holding a paper as his life depended on it.

“So, what’s going on?”, Dmitry asked.

“Nothing that should trouble your mind”, answered his father without glancing at him.

“Oh, but it troubled my mind. Maria is still scared, so is Alexei” he said harshly. “Just tell me”.

And his father did it. Alexei was right, people hated them. The shootings were to the royal family and thanks to the extreme security present in the place, the attackers preferred to shoot at people who were expectant upon their arrival.

There were not many shootings, but they managed to hurt seven people who were transferred to the hospital where they received care. Also, one person was killed: a ten-year-old boy.

After hearing all this, Dmitry finally sat down and brought his hands up to his head trying to process everything his father had told him. He had to do something, anything.

"What will you say to the press?" The young man asked, fixing his blue eyes on his father, who returned him a worried look.

"Nothing, only that there was a riot among the people present, but not that it was an attack directed at us."

"But people will find out anyway," he replied confused.

"I do not want these extremists to give themselves more airs and then boast about what happened today."

Perplexed, Dmitry got up without saying a word and left the office leaving his father behind. If the Tsar wouldn't do anything, he would try something.

 

After changing into more comfortable clothes, he went directly to the guards' room where he knew he would find someone who could help him get out of the palace without making much of a fuss.

Gleb was eating an apple while reading the newspaper. He had his feet on the table and balanced carelessly in the chair. On another occasion, Dmitry would surely have scared him to see how he fell, but not today.

"Gleb, can we talk?"

The young guard rolled his eyes before folding the newspaper and leaving the room.

The boy was a couple of years older than him and they knew each other from a young age since his father was a high-ranking militiaman. He spent some time in military service too and had recently accepted the position as a royal guard at Maria's request, for reasons Dmitry did not want to analyze. Gleb also left something to be desired in his work.

"What do you need?" for example, the soldier did not understand real protocols and always treated him as an equal, a fact that only alarmed those who did not belong to the palace.

 

"You and I will go to the hospital to visit some injured people and, in passing, you will tell me what is really going on in the streets," Dmitry replied.

"Oh ... you know I can get fired for this, right?" Gleb replied.

"Come on, they will not fire you if I say it was my order. And it is, by the way," he said with a mischievous smile.

And after a couple of bad words expressed by his good friend, together they left the palace.

 

The streets of St. Petersburg received him with shouting and pushing. People traded what they could and on more than one occasion, he saw small children looking in the trash for something to eat. 

It was not the first time he left the palace, but it was the first time he really looked at his surroundings and there it was again, that feeling of guilt for staying too long with his arms crossed.

When they arrived at the hospital, a nurse received them and walked them to the wing where the wounded people from the shooting at the ceremony were.

Upon entering the room, he saw the stretchers with the wounded men and women. Some sleeping, others being attended by nurses who changed bandages and cleaned wounds.

On the other end of the room, a young redhead held the hand of a woman. Both smiled without noticing Dmitry presence, and he couldn’t take off his gaze off the image.

"Miss Morozova, the Tsarevich is here," said one of the nurses as if she could not believe it was really happening.

The young woman looked up and fixed her blue eyes on him. Unlike the woman at his side, the girl did not look amused by his presence and stood up squeezing her lips seriously, walking in his direction.

Dmitry suspected that only by protocol, the young woman bowed slightly, but she never looked down anyway.

"Why does your majesty honor us with your presence?" The girl asked and Gleb camouflaged a coughing laugh.

"I wanted to see the wounded, to knew they were fine," he replied, trying to sound innocent.

"Good, they're in perfect hands and they're recovering, you can retire now," said the girl, turning to return to her position when the nurse exclaimed _Miss Morozova_!. "Patients should now be calm sister, and not be exalted by the presence of his royal majesty", she responded with a sharp smile.

Dmitry did not know how to react and, expressing a quick farewell, he left the hospital with Gleb a few steps behind.

"That worked out perfectly, right?", exclaimed his friend.

Dmitry just pressed his lips.

 

Three weeks later, in the palace life went on as if nothing had happened. His mother watched Alexei attend all of his lessons and not play anything that could seriously hurt him. Olga and Tatiana made sure that everything worked perfectly among the employees. Maria spent a great deal of time with a certain guard and no one dared to question it. 

And then, the ball.

Because nothing’s better to forget a tragedy than liquor and music.

Dmitry was in his usual position near his father, greeting all those who approached him and tried with all his energy not to think that this was a total waste of time.

"You could look like you're really enjoying this and not that you're punished here," his father murmured high enough for him to hear.

"Well, I'm not enjoying it."

"Look, here comes Duchess Anastasia Morozova, be nice to her please."

In front of him, the young redhead lady that he saw in the hospital looked just as uncomfortable as he was. When she saw him, she blushed slightly but raised her chin with a bit of haughtiness.

"Miss Morozova," said her father. "This is my eldest son Dmitry, I think both of you had not had the opportunity to meet."

"Not to talk at length at least," Dmitry declared smiling. "Would you like to dance?"

In front of him, the girl opened her eyes alarmed but smiled nodding. Without waiting for his father to approve his motivation to not spend the night standing like a statue, he offered his hand to Anastasia and together they walked to the dance floor.

_Well, maybe this could be an interesting night._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love feedback, so you can make me happy with only that :) 
> 
> Also, you can talk to me in tessiepessie.tumblr.com or anotherdsayblue.tumblr.com


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